‘Watch closely, pie-selling person,’ said the wizards. He stretched out his hand, made a strange gesture with his fingers, and produced a pie out of the air. It was fat, golden-brown and beautifully glazed. Just by looking at it Ardrothy knew it was packed edge to edge with prime lean pork, with none of those spacious areas of good fresh air under the lid that represented his own profit margin. It was the kind of pie piglets hope to be when they grew up.
